


No Words Needed

by AnneCumberbatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Days, Comforting John Watson, Depressed Sherlock Holmes, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Supportive John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:09:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneCumberbatch/pseuds/AnneCumberbatch
Summary: Sometimes words can't be said, no matter how hard Sherlock tries, but John doesn't need him to say anything.





	No Words Needed

The grey light filtered into the bedroom through the cracks in the blinds. The sheets shifted as John moved his legs and tightened his arm around Sherlock who was nestled against John’s side, his head lying on John’s chest. The sheets were hot against his skin, pulling him down and keeping him still. Although his eyes were closed, Sherlock had been awake for some time, lying in denial of the daylight probing at his irises through the thin layer of his eyelids. John’s hand stroked against his waist, fingertips rubbing against the bare skin exposed by the edge of Sherlock’s shirt. They had been lying there for some time in silence. John tilted his head up to press a soft kiss into Sherlock’s hair, his hand still moving reassuringly.

Sherlock’s voice rumbled from his chest, cracking from lack of usage. “Don’t you have work today?”

“I called out.” John looked up at the ceiling, his arm wrapped tightly around Sherlock. “I just had a feeling when I woke up.”

Sherlock nuzzled slightly at John’s torso, his eyes still closed. “Mm.”

John inhaled deeply and exhaled, feeling the weight of Sherlock’s head against him. “Mhm.”

They continued to lie in silence, wrapped in each other.

 

Sometimes these days would just happen. Days where Sherlock would wake up and find himself unable to get up, to face the day, often with no specific reason or provocation. Early on, John had tried to entice his partner up with every good thing he could think of, breakfast, cases, sex, but quickly realised nothing could reach the detective. John had suggested therapists, medication, sheer will-power to get up, and Sherlock had tried a good number, just to please him. However, they soon both realised that the best solution to these days was to wait them out. They would pass, as all days did, and the next day, or sometimes a few days later, Sherlock would recover the energy and willpower within himself to get out of bed for longer than to go to the loo. After these days, Sherlock returned to his normal habits and lifestyle, approaching his work with his usual fervor and occasionally attacking John with the surprise of affection and settling into the life he loved more than he could bring himself to describe.

But until he came back to his usual self, John would stay with him, holding him, begging food into him, pushing water bottles into his limp hands, washing his body on the longer stretches with damp warm cloths, and pressing gentle kisses into Sherlock’s hair.

 

“I love you.” John murmured into the warm air of their bedroom, his fingers tracing patterns against Sherlock’s hip.

 

Sherlock rarely replied to his declarations, however, his face pressed slightly deeper against John and John knew he heard him and loved him back. No words were needed.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments, criticism, and opinions are always welcome. Thank you for reading.


End file.
